Confessions in the Rain
by Tallgent
Summary: Change affects Buffy and Spike as they reunite after the last stand in Los Angeles.
1. A Change is Gonna Come

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm just playing in Joss's playground.

As the last demon soldier fell dead, Buffy Summers collapsed against the alley wall completely spent. The rain did little to wash away the blood and sweat. She leaned on her sword, trying to catch her breath, and finally trained her eyes on the platinum form ten feet away from her.

Spike hadn't even bothered with staying on his feet. His feet splayed out widely and he leaned back against a dumpster, rain tricking down his face.

He couldn't quite explain the sequence of events because all of the sudden the idea of sequential order lost all meaning. He felt like he was at square one. All he knew was that he lost consciousness and felt some kind of ebb. As if a shifting was taking place.

Then there was a feeling of something like a spirit leaving his body. It felt much like when he awoke from the dead sans soul. And immediately upon seeing Drusilla felt no conscience deter those private thoughts he had kept to himself as the woeful poet. Bashing brains in. Taking women by the score. Railroad spikes.

But now as he sat there dumbly he remembered feeling something giving way. And it wasn't ripped out, painful. It was absurdly enough like losing a baby tooth. It got loose, jiggled a bit, and fell out. Now completely in sync with his faculties, Spike feels the change. He hears the change. The first thing that he hears and feels is the constant beating of a heart. His own.

He struggles to stand, but the battle has taken his toll, and besides the ground feels nice. He can stay there a bit more and try to rationalize how he was the vampire to end up with the Shanshu. How he fit into the Powers' plans. And perhaps just as predictably found himself wanting coming up with answers. Maybe life doesn't provide you with any, especially with prophecies in the mix.

Then of course, there's the surprise visitor and she finally ambles over to him.

Spike prepares himself for the histrionic display that is sure to come. Whether it's a positive or negative one, however, remains to be seen.

But Buffy Summers has always surprised Spike in the past and she does so now. She collapses in a dazed heap right beside him and allows her head to lean back with no give onto the dumpster's steel side. Since she's the Slayer, she probably doesn't feel the dull ache that will set there in the morning.

Spike can only stare at her, praying this wasn't a hallucination. And praying harder that he really had died and the beautiful form beside him was evidence that St. Peter had allowed him access past the pearlies.

Instead the Slayer could only stare straight ahead, finally attempting to form words. "So, um, do you remember what happened here? The whole story?"

Both good questions. He supposed she was still trying to get her bearings. He would give her time.

Though the transformation itself was painless and, truth be told anticlimactic, when Spike tried to remember the battle itself, it was like pulling out a good-sized splinter. It wasn't enough to cause serious harm, but the pain receptors still responded and they decidedly did not like what was happening.

As soon as Spike thought back to events before the Shanshu, his head throbbed and his brain fought stubbornly to seal the events away in some vault. But Spike was stubborn too, heartbeat or no.

There was him. Angel. Illyria. And Gunn. They fought different flanks. Gunn took up his place and knifed, chopped, and stabbed as many as he could. But in the end, the wound he sustained back at the Senator's--the demonic Senator's--had proven mortal. Thankfully, he died quietly. And, Spike liked to think at peace. Perhaps in the arms of the baby Jesus as he wanted. It was amazing what a couple of boilermakers could get out of old Charlie boy, as Spike found out after one of their infrequent excursions to the nearby bar. If Spike was correct it was the same night Angel discovered Cordelia had…

Buffy dimly saw Spike choke up and close his eyes. She figured it was just exhaustion.

Illyria had learned loyalty in her time on the human coil, but the god in her would not be satisfied. Before the portal had closed--thanks to some assistance by Buffy and more specifically the closing charm that the coven had given her before this "jaunt", as she fibbed to them--Illyria leaped into it, thus ending her brief unforgettable stay on Earth. Finally, in some ways laying Fred to rest. Again, he choked up at the memory and Buffy paid it little mind.

"I knew we made it," she decided. She checked herself over just to make sure. Then turned to Spike.

"I'm fine," he said softly.

"Angel. Did he really take on a dragon?"

Now he knew why his brain fought so hard. He could barely say the words, so he breathed out and hoped his lips would do the talking for him. "So it seemed."

"So, um, where is he?" Buffy looked around to the far end of the alley.

"Angel fell, pet," Spike said simply. He was starting to fall back on his familiar affectionate nicknames, more and more coming back to himself.

He could remember Angel setting his jacket down, taking on a horde of demons, ten from front to back. He remembered Angel leaping on the beast jamming the sword through the dragon's snout Val Kilmer style and leaping down. When the dragon took his fiery breath, his head exploded. So far, so Val. Except the blow caught Angel full-on. He never had a chance to move. He was instantly incinerated.

Buffy gave Spike a patient "duh" face. "That's why we've got to find him, silly. So we can get him back up."

Spike turned to Buffy, his eyes clear and sad. "He fell."

It was agony watching the Slayer's reactions as it sunk in. Her mouth hung open and she shook her head in stubborn denial. His face contorted as tears began their slow trickle down her face.

Spike could only watch. He dared not try to comfort her. Not with this.

She finally crumpled, hugging herself in a tight secure ball. Spike only turned away, giving her what space he could.

Drained from her grief, Buffy turned back to Spike, who only stared out at the rain that continued to fall.

"I want to say goodbye. And I want you to be with me," she rasped out.

Spike could only sigh. "We said our goodbyes before the fight, love. I paid my respects to him when I fought at his side. This is for you to do. I'll wait here. If you want."

Buffy closed her eyes and her hand grazed his shoulder slightly as she stood up. She marched over to the spot where Angel had laid his jacket, about ten meters down, the rain attacking the leather in relentless, thick droplets. Buffy stood over it and lowered her head, her mouth moving in silent reverent and private passages of remembrance and thankful love. Then she stooped and cradled the jacket in her arms, walking back to Spike. She slipped the jacket onto her drenched shoulders, and as promised the former vampire waited for her. They walked side by side.

It seemed the most natural thing when she slipped his arm around her shoulders and rested her head against his chest. As they reached the end of the alley, the sun peaked out. And that's when Buffy knew.


	2. Mortal Wounds

Spike had a lot of evidence during that time in the alley that Buffy had regained her bearings. Most of them involved rapidly asked questions of escalating tone and volume.

She leaped back, as if singed on his flesh and only stared at him in disbelief. Then glanced to the sun and protectively tried to shield him from the rays. It was almost comical.

Only Buffy failed to grasp the cosmic joke. And that took away some of the humor.

Still more questions. What was he doing alive? Aren't you supposed to be dead? How did he come back? How long was he back?

It was on that question that Spike answered. One word. Months. And it gave him a bloody nose for his trouble, courtesy of Buffy's sharp fist.

"Ow! Dammit, Buffy! You can't do that anymore," he yelled. His hands shot up to his nose. Pinching his nostrils shut he tilted his head back, then forward, then back again, trying to remember how to stop the flow. Thankfully, the heavens decided to be merciful and allowed the rain to start up again, washing away the undignified blood.

Buffy rolled her eyes as she led Spike over to a step near the chain link fence. She used her sleeve to pinch his nose shut and cradled his head in her lap, softly petting his hair.

"Well, what do you expect me to do? I find out you've actually been alive for months. You suddenly turn human because of some prophecy Angel…and then you don't even tell me you're back. Is this some kind of relapse to when you were soulless or something?"

Spike shrugged off her coddling and strode into the rain. He hoped to whirl around and proclaim some brilliant romantic phrase to bring them crashing into each other's arms and lips. But when he did turn around, to his horror, all he could see was a blonde-topped blob. He squinted through the drops, but Buffy still remained blobbish.

"Oh, my bloody fucking Christ! I don't believe it. I'm human, all right. I've reverted back to sodding William. With my luck I'll start sounding all hoity-toity now and you'll bugger off!"

Buffy was about to question him further when Spike pulled out one of his cigs. She was about to tell him that might not be such a good idea. But the former vamp barreled on ahead, as usual.

He lit up and took a drag already feeling the nicotine work its calming magic. And then he followed it up with an undignified and violent bout of hacking up his newly reformed lungs.

Buffy only stared as suddenly the vampire she had always known and lusted for as the Big Bad, suddenly turned into Jerry Lewis.

"Bloody hell! What's next--?!" And that's when his nose began working. As a vampire he could control his need to take a scent when he wanted. But now his lungs actually worked. His lungs needed oxygen. And his lungs were willing to put up with whatever stench was out there to get it.

His nose, however, wasn't.

Spike recoiled and held his nose shut yet again.

"Oh, God. It smells absolutely horrid. God, the smog!"

Buffy just shook her head. What else could she do?

"You mean you just now discover how bad L.A. smells?"

Spike continued gesticulating and waving his arms. What Buffy's mom would define as "carrying on."

"Spike, the rain will wash away most of the smell," Buffy said patiently. "Come back and sit with me."

At Buffy's request, Spike finally stopped. And he stared at the Slayer.

"What's this? You want me to be close to you? That's a switch."

Buffy would always be grateful for the last moments with Spike, and how much they had overcome to get to where they had gotten. They did the damn near impossible. And they had done it together.

But as Buffy stared in silent pain form his remark for the first time in their long overdue reunion, Buffy had a feeling that it wasn't just the Shanshu she had to help Spike through.

"Of…of course, I want you close to me. Why would you think that?"

Spike scoffed and shook his head, raising his head to the pouring heavens. "Seemed to have everything all figured out, love. Had Angel's heart. Had the Immortal when Peaches let you down. Life got a lot better for you when you stayed out of ours. And vice versa, to be honest."

The words leaked out of Spike before he could stop it. And then to his horror (and relief) he found he didn't want to stop.

Buffy couldn't believe what she was hearing. And the fire that he had helped her regain began to glow, but it wasn't from love she was slowly realizing as her surprisingly long strides made evident.

"You think it's been easy for me? You think it was easy to leave you in that Hellmouth? I wanted knock your stubborn self unconscious and drag you out since the whole martyr bit you seemed to get a yen for worked out really well."

"I never wanted---!"

"And it doesn't matter anyway. You're back. Hopefully, here to stay."

"What's it matter to you?" he parried back.

"What do you mean?"

Spike began his predatory pacing that had so ingrained itself. It seemed Shanshu or no, there were some habits he would never break.

"I'm back. Yeah. And I find that instead of the life living in the light I died to give you, you're off demon-banging one of my most notorious enemies."

"You said it yourself. I need a little demon in my man. I get it now."

Spike couldn't even look at her.

But Buffy wouldn't give up.

"You taught me that. You showed me how little I really knew about my job. About me."

"I never intended you to fuck evil beings, love. I wanted you to have faith in me."

Buffy laughed shortly. "Did nothing I say in that basement sink in there? I said I believed in you."

Spiek whilred on her. "If you did, you'd realize what a God-given gift it was to love you. How rare and special it is. And instead you…you treat it like shit. You always treated it like shit. Off fucking an amoral demonic playboy that made Angel and me look like fools."

"Yes, so? He got the better of you two. It happens to anyone. Nothing to get worked up about!"

"That's not the point! We changed, Buffy! We fought the good fight, gained your respect, and we changed!"

Buffy brought her face up to Spike, staring daggers at him. "And don't think I've never been prouder to have loved two such men as you and Angel. And I shouldn't have to convince you of that."

But Spike could only shake his head. And as he spoke his words were clouded by the tears choking in his throat. "But that's just it, Buffy. You turned your back on him. What he stood for. You didn't trust him when he needed you most."

She shook her head in such bemused disbelief. "I never thought you'd ever be friends with him."

"Like I said. I've changed.." Spike only said. And then he brought her up to date.


	3. Breaking the Dam

Truth be told, she was amused by his adventures post-Hellmouth. She liked the irony of Spike being all go-throughable when the final enemy she faced was the incorporeal First Evil. Besides Spike's graphic account of he and Angel fighting for the Shanshu, she wishes she could have seen it just to see her two favorite vampires wage war on each other, following it up with some very graphic peace-offerings courtesy of a very aroused Slayer. She couldn't breathe when she heard about Cordelia, and part of her still refused to believe it. She busted all of her guts when she heard about Angel turning into a puppet.

"And I meant to come, Buffy. I really did. But something happened that threw us all for a loop," Spike said soberly. "And I realized that this was my place now. I needed to see this through."

"What was it?" Buffy's anger receded into ancient memory now.

"There was a sarcophagus. Fred had just received it and she couldn't bloody help herself," Spike sighed. "She had to investigate it. It was who she was."

He swallowed. Blinked a few times. Then resumed.

Buffy waited. She had heard of Fred from Angel in their sporadic once-a-year small-talks, but never met him, or now her, as Spike had clarified.

"She got infected or…possessed by a god, an Old One from back in the day. And she died. From that moment on, I couldn't turn back, Buffy. I just couldn't. Fred was the truest soul of that whole lot, and I knew I couldn't let her down."

"You loved her." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Spike answered immediately.

Buffy looked away with a wince, tempted to just go off and walk and cry for a good long while.

"She was the sweetest girl I knew, Buffy. And she did more for me than I had any right to ask of her. She took my goodness at face value. What I did. Who I became. She accepted me fully. Something you never did."

Buffy was just getting up to leave when he stopped her.

Spike elaborated gently as Buffy refused to look at him. "But we had already had that bad blood between us. And it was a bloody miracle we got past it."

Finally, he turned her face ever so softly, fragilely toward his own. They were inches apart.

"But we did. I'll never forget that. I'll never forget that my love for you made it possible. And that won't change, either. I still love you, Buffy Summers."

Buffy couldn't meet his eyes and she felt a tear roll down her cheek.

"But it didn't have to be so hard," he said a bit harsher. "Angel's troops treated me a lot better than you bloody Scoobies. You found it so hard to believe I could change when I gave you every reason to see it so. But I didn't have a soul, so maybe that's the final indicator of goodness in this universe, eh? I just want to know why, Buffy. Why was it so easy for Fred to acknowledge and accept me when you looked like you were going through some kind of painful dental procedure? Why did my acceptance seem to signal for you the end of the world?"

Buffy couldn't speak for a long time. And she stared at the tears falling from the sky imploring them for the words to communicate her long dormant denials.

"Because it was," she finally decided. "Because I knew if I completely accepted everything you had to offer, your goodness, your love, my world would never be the same. And I was scared. Scared of what that might mean. And I regret, every day I regret, that as a consequence you had to suffer through so much pain. So much undeserved pain. It doesn't make up for what I did, I know. And maybe I still can. But for now all I can say is I'm sorry."

The dam burst. And Buffy let primal pent-up grief and guilt escape its cage.

"I'm so sorry, Spike!!" she sobbed.

Spike hugged her close in shaking tremors and tears as they clung tightly amidst the falling rain.


	4. Let it Bleed

The worst of it had faded when Buffy released her tight grip on Spike. He calmly brushed her wet hair back to uncover the delicate beauty that lay beneath her bangs. She laughed weakly.

"How's Dawn?" he asked.

"Great!" she exclaimed, grateful for the subject change. "She's doing well in school as an expatriate. Going over her list of colleges. Oxford. Cambridge. UCLA."

Buffy shrugged at Spike's puzzled reaction. "I know. Stanford sounds better, but she's a SoCal girl, what can you do?"

"What about you? Besides---"

"Got the Slayers Italiana to train. Got a set-up over on the outskirts of Roma, actually. Preparing the Slayers of the future. We got meditation, physical drills, battle technique, fitness plans, weaponry, and the occasional nightly round of gelatos. Compliments of yours truly."

"Nice to see you haven't completely dropped out of your old life," Spike muttered.

Buffy bristled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you basically left everyone out to dry and die, didn't you? You had the resources, but you thought the worst about Angel so you stayed out of it. Until there was a Slayer involved."

Buffy's fists curled and uncurled and she stood up and out of Spike's embrace and walked to the opposite end of the alley. Then she turned around, hugging herself from the rain that surrounded her.

"I didn't trust him. And what the hell was he thinking, anyway?"

"Should have asked him," he challenged. He stood up and leaned against the cool brick surface, some of the jagged edges bit dully into his back, but it only encouraged him further. He needed Buffy to hear him. To understand him.

"Look, I had my doubts, too. I thought he had finally flipped, to be honest. But I worked with the guy, you know? I had contact. And from what I could see, he needed the support of some old friends, and you weren't there."

"We weren't friends," Buffy bit off.

"We were."

Buffy winced and looked at her wet feet.

"It pained me so much, Buffy, to see you as the enemy. Even if you didn't know I was alive it still hurt. Because in a way…we represented the same cause, had the same girl, you know? It hurt," he said with a drawn-out, sad sigh. "He was my Yoda."

Buffy only listened in silence.

"And I know it sounds crazy and bloody stupid but…it felt like a betrayal. Of everything we stood for. You always being at my side, no matter what. Trusting me as a partner, hell, at least as a fellow soldier. All of that just disappeared. Didn't exist anymore. I wonder if it ever really existed, sometimes."

"I came when it counted," Buffy spoke with quiet terseness. "Maybe I wasn't here to….I wish I did, you know. I would have tried my damnedest to save him. But I was here when it counted. I helped in the fight. I fought at your side. And, God damn you, Spike, that's all you should expect of me now. I protected the Hellmouth for seven fucking years. So if I made the battle more difficult for you guys then I am truly sorry. But you died so I could live a real life. And I'm living it, aren't I? This is what you wanted."

"I wanted you to be happy," Spike explained loudly. "I didn't want you to forget everything you stood for. But you immerse yourself with a demon, shag him senseless, and he's a mockery of everything Angel and I have become. Honestly, pet, what do you expect me to say to that?"

"I would expect you to say nothing," Buffy gritted through clenched teeth. "Because it is none of your damn business."

"Touched a nerve, did I? He must be good virile fuck. He put it to Dru more than a dozen times. Be better off banging Clem."

Buffy just laughed bitterly shaking her head as if expecting this whole nonsense. "God, I guess that whole blood not rushing to your head wasn't hyperbole. You know, you amaze me. You become a glowing champion in my eyes, proving all of my friends and Giles wrong in becoming the man I knew you could be. And yet, you're still a childish, selfish little jerk when you get below all of that heroism. I'm sorry if you have self-esteem issues with this guy. And yeah, he is a good fuck. We've done it everywhere," Buffy bragged and brayed. "All the tourist sites. The Coliseum, the Strata…

"Vatican City?" Spike's eyebrow arched.

Buffy's jaw dropped appalled. "No! No, of course not. I can't believe you!…I mean, I don't think the security booth counts…But he's flexible, agile, brilliantly creative, romantic, and he's got stamina. He can go for days, Spike. We're talking the whole weekend!"

"Okay, that's it," Spike disgustedly decided. "I knew it. I'm in Hell. This has got to be Hell."

"So I have no issues with being known as the Immortal's main girl. And if you can't deal, well that's just sad. I was hoping it didn't have to end like this. But fine. Have a good life."

Buffy retreated swiftly down the alley. Spike stared after her in speechless shock for half a second. But the uncomfortable familiarity of the scene caused an almost demonic determination to seize over him. Quite simply, his beating heart and cogent mind declared enough is enough.

He caught up with her and whipped Buffy around.

"No. No. It's not gonna go down like this. You always soddin' left. Every. Single. Time. Well, I'm changing the rules, sweetheart. I'm human. I'm a new man. And I declare my independence from you. That's right. Wanker Perpetuale' is free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty he's free at last. So you're gonna stay right in this alley while I triumphantly march through the rain as you soak your lovely self into a bleedin' raisin. Godspeed, Slayer. Have a nice life. And stay the fuck out of mine."

Buffy was struck dumb in possibly every way she knew. And as she saw Spike stride with purpose away from her to the end of the alley and the rain continued to pour...something snapped.

Buffy ran after him, tackled him, and pushed him into the wall. He sank like a stone.

"Okay, that's it," she screamed. "You want this? We'll do this. If it's that important to you, we'll talk about Morty. But you're gonna listen, you're gonna shut up, and I'm gonna rant until I can't speak anymore. First, I hate you. I really hate you. I hate you for being back in my life when I had it all figured out. I hate you for breaking my heart a record number of times tonight and especially when I told you I loved you in the Hellmouth. I hate you for your unbelievably childish jealousy, which is inexcusable for someone who is 100 plus years old….

"Actually, technically it's one…since I was reborn human today," Spike offered meekly.

"Well, since your past one hundred years which you still have memories of so technically….SHUT UP!," she shouted, angry at the distraction.. She began again with a huff.

"But mostly, Spike," she continued. "I hate that I can't hate you. Did it ever occur to you or Angel that I was with the Immortal because he knew you two? He could tell me stories about his exploits and make you guys look like Elmer Fudd, sure. But for just that time you lived again. Don't you see? The stories brought you back to life. In my mind. And my heart."

Spike stared speechless.

Her anger dissipated. And she ached to hold him. But she kept her distance begging him to see. To understand.

"I couldn't get that anywhere else," she cried as tears leaked from her eyes. "My friends were so humbled by what you did, so ashamed of the way they….Xander can't even say your name. Giles told me about one hundred variations of "I'm sorry." And Dawn…Dawnie feels terrible that things never went back to the way it used to be with you two. And she hates how she doubted your love for her."

Spike bowed his head. "Buffy--"

"Still in rant mode," she warned. "And I know the truth, Spike. Whenever the Immortal laughs at your expense, I have to laugh. Because I know who you turned out to be. Better than he could ever imagine. Better than I could." Her voice dropped to a soft sigh. And her eyes glistened as her voice wavered and undulated.

"I know the man you became. The man I fell in love with. Who made me so proud. Who saved the world, Who glowed like a champion, like a hero. Who saved me and my soul. Who brought me back to life."

Spike beheld the woman standing before him. Through the rain she had never looked more wondrous. More beautiful.

She glowed.

"And whenever we did have sex it was…fleeting. The pleasure faded. Because…he couldn't look at me the way you looked at me. He couldn't touch you.. You look at me, Spike, and it's like I can do anything. Be anyone I want to be. And even when you were gone, I still felt that fire, that connecting fire that we created. And it still burns. It's burning right now. Whatever happens between us it will always burn."

Spike had always managed to surprise himself. He was afraid he had acquired some of William's weaknesses. But as he rushed full speed at Buffy, pressed his lips to hers, and thrust her into the opposite wall, he was pleased to find he had his old strengths as well. And quite possibly some old souvenirs from the Big Bad as well.

And Buffy's lips continued caressing Spike's hungry, passionate mouth. Not pausing she felt for the apartment ladder's rungs, pulled herself up and hoisted her legs lightly around Spike's waist, locking her ankles around him. And together they conjured up their dormant passionate magic as the rain blanketed them.


	5. A Little Stroll

It began with a kiss. Doesn't it always?

So full of contradictions, they both were.

The first Spike felt was his skin and how hot it felt embracing Buffy. The rain physically cooled it, but, oh God, it was like his body came alive at its peak. This is what he denied himself for a whole year. He really was an idiot.

And then there was Buffy.

Her core burned as she ground into Spike. The rain flowed down her succulent body as Spike slurped at her skin, sucking her breasts through the shirt top. She arched into him more. The ladder squeaked, groaned, and rattled as it flirted with coming down. She moaned and mewled in orgasmic ecstasy, and yet growled in impatience at not getting at his tight flesh. She kissed and licked at the rain, paying particular care to the place where she heard his heartbeat. His chest smothered with her lustful and loving kisses.

She attacked his ear, biting and sucking.

"Bump-bump. Bump-bump," she whispered with a giggle, imitating his heartbeat.

It took so much effort for Spike to stop, but he finally rested his forehead against hers.

"Buffy," he breathed. "Buffy, love, not this way. Wanna do you proper. Wanna make love to you. Like we did before for the last time. I want so much to make love to you proper."

Buffy stopped, her mouth opened and pouting. Her brow crinkled in exasperated confusion.

"I'm fine with this," she said. "I just want to feel you again."

"I'm not," he said quietly. He broke his head away from the contact. His heart screamed.

"I love you and I want to show you how much. The Hyperion's only a couple of blocks away. We'll get into a comfy bed and have all bloody night. We can wait."

After an agonizing moment of stillness, Buffy nodded and let herself down from around his waist.

"Okay," she said softly. But she brushed her hand across his chest suggestively, wearing an increasingly mischievous grin.

Spike had seriously underestimated his Slayer's desire. But he was about to find out.

"We'd better get a move on," Buffy's voice lilted with wanton promise.

And Spike. Poor Spike failed to pick it up. He took her hand and taking his sweet time to enjoy their reunion as he walked hand in hand with her out of the alley. Letting her lead partway due to his por eyesight.

Buffy changed her position and linked fingers with him. She locked hands with his so tightly, squeezing briefly.

Spike immediately felt his member stiffen in response. But he resumed the leisurely pace. They had all night.

Cars passed them by. Some stragglers walked, jogged, and raced through the rain. But Spike and Buffy simply walked.

They reached the first crosswalk and now Buffy cuddled up into Spike's arms. Her hand brushed his chest and abs back and forth, journeying further and further down with each pass, brushing against the front of his jeans, then seizing and rubbing it shamelessly. All the while smiling her innocent, joyful smile.

Spike's head lolled back. He hunched his duster closer around them to stop eyes from probing.

But the minx wasn't making it any easier. She cuddled into his chest, her hands reached through his legs to grab his tight, rounded buttocks.

Walk sign….Where's the bloody walk sign? Spike could feel his balls stir, his dick threatened to rip out of its denimed prison. William Banner fighting a bit longer to keep Spike Hulk sheathed.

She whispered such perversities in his ear in such deliciously anticipatory tones. Finally the walk sign flashed.

And the pace increased, this time with him leading her. He could begin to make out the street signs a bit better.

She clung to him, letting her hand wander where it's devilish mind would. Under his shirt where it pinched and stroked his vulnerable flesh, even slipping within his jeans.

"Buffy, for Godsake," Spike whispered, praying that now wandering soul would see such a display.

"What they see won't hurt them," Buffy teased. She leaned in. "I don't feel any hurt coming on, Spike." She licked and nibbled on his throat.

"Tell that to my balls," he gritted.

"I'll have a nice chat with them," she replied huskily. "You know how well we get along."

Almost there. One more crosswalk. **Don't Walk.**

Spike's dick remained hard and raring for action, but the need to come seemed to diminish. They just needed to get a bit further and…

A taxi came by, cutting through a large puddle. Spike protected Buffy from most of the water, but she was still soaked.

Of course, with the rain coming down they had both been soaked for some time.

But Buffy's playfulness resurfaced with a vengeance.

"My shoes!" she exclaimed. "They'll be damaged from the rain. Look, there's some right there on the heel."

She stepped in from of him and bent at the waist, backing square into the rock solid encased within his jeans. No light brushes. If he let the beast free, it would have slipped home and sent them both to the Big O. She took her finger and licked it so deliberately, taking her sweet time and hypnotically slid the finger up and down her boot heel.

Spike's mouth gaped open dumbfounded.

She then let her finger travel up the back of her leg, past her calf, the knee, until it reached her tight supple thigh. The hypnotizing finger trailed past her perfect thighs and the other fingers decided to join in, rubbing her round ass in circular motions.

His eyes came up to her face to her eyes and he saw the desire in them. The way they glazed over, communicating her every wish and intention. All pleasurable. All private.

All for him.

She slipped her finger in her mouth and sucked on it allowing it to linger at the side of her mouth, slowly slipping it out.

The rain cascaded on her. Her hair wet and wild. Lust permeated every inch of her body.

Oh, God….Walk….Flash the fucking…

"Sod it," he grabbed her up and they ran across the street. Buffy laughing all the way to the gate.

Spike fished the gate keys out of his coat pocket and fought off the tempting show Buffy put on at the gate. Thank God for peripheral vision, which actually seemed to be getting better.

But Buffy turned the gate into her private playground she fingered the gate post up and down with her fingers and hands, never taking her eyes off of him. Then leaned back onto the gate, propping her succulent leg up, allowing her leg muscles and butt to work it's erotic magic. She thrust her chest out allowing the rain to soak her buttoned silk shirt. Absently, she unbuttoned a few buttons to let her breasts peek out and the rain did its work on those beautiful creations as well.

Spike jiggled the gate open, took her hand, and practically flew to the front door.

One more barrier to bliss.

As Spike was about to fish in his jeans for the key, Buffy stayed his hand.

"Let me," she said.

Staring through his eyes she trailed her hand down his front and into his pocket. She fished and felt around for them, occasionally making contact with his cock and letting him know it by running her fingers down up and down its length.

"Hard to get out," she whispered. Mercifully, she broke her overwhelming eye contact to retrieve them. And sure enough she pulled them out.

But instead of opening the door, she handed them to Spike and guided his hand carrying the key to the lock. She placed herself cheek to cheek with him.

"Trick with keys is," she murmured softly. "You can't force it."

Her fingers made love with his hand as he slipped the key into its hole.

"You've got to be gentle." Her voice dripped with promise and sin.

He turned the key.

"But you got to know when to push." She licked and kissed his cheek and jaw.

Spike licked his lips. He heard the click. And swung it open.

Buffy threw herself at him, and before they fell in a sexual heap, he kicked the door shut.


	6. Release

As a poet, an admittedly awful poet, Spike had devoted his waking life to finding beauty in words and language. All the masters were consumed like candy. Woodsworth. Keats. Donne. Lord Byron. And, of course, the Bard.

Certain words just dripped with beauty. Love. Kisses. Hugs. Embrace. Radiant.

Effulgent.

But until this moment with Buffy straddling him and covering his chest with her deep, wet kisses, he never considered ravaged being a good thing. A thing of beauty.

But he couldn't deny it. He was being gloriously ravaged.

Her lust popped out of the champagne bottle of her body. She unceremoniously ripped his shirt off, not wasting time with sensibilities or courtesy.

Not to say she was cruel. But she was ravenous. And Spike meant to feed her well.

She sat on her haunches and took one of his hands placing it in her hair. He swam it through her flowing blonde mane, letting the silky strands engulf it. She lowered it to her face, kissing and sucking on his palm as she guided it south. Then past her neck to her breasts. Never losing eye contact, in a deliberate motion, she swiped her hand down her silk front, popping her buttons and placed his hand on her milky, luscious breast.

Spike didn't want to let his right hand have all the fun. Soon the left one was filled. And Buffy arched her head back, her impossibly flat and tight abs flexing and writhing. Her mouth as unhinged as her inhibitions.

Spike only let his hands caress and stroke her creamy flesh.

She leaned forward and fondled and stroked his hair, eyes communicating ungodly pleasures and sacred love all at once. Completely in tune with him.

Then she lowered her hands to his face cradling it ever so gently. Spike marveled at the contrasts of this woman who never failed to intrigue and astonish him.

Still lower to his chest, sculpting and kneading his skin, fingers tracing figures over his skin, her mouth perking at Spike's pleasurable response. A soft gasp. A breath of a name.

She outright grinned. Her eyes fixed hoodedly. Such a vixen. A glorious vixen.

Then wandered past his waist to his elongated cock, still sheathed in his jeans. Mouth hanging open in devilish delight, she unbuttoned his fly.

Spike could only stare in rapture.

Then with force she yanked down on his jeans freeing it.

"Hello, there," she whispered. "I missed you."

She turned her face to his and stroked his cheek tenderly. Like a newborn.

"I missed us."

She leaned down to cover his mouth, tongue working around his lips, savoring his taste.

Then inexplicably she got off him and placed a kiss on his member. It jerked forward, begging for the feast.

But instead she raced for the stairs, laughing with delight. Throwing off her wisp of a top.

Spike stood and with blinding speed he thought he had lost, he tackled her at the stairs. His pants almost completely off. Rubbing his tool on her jeans.

She backed her ass into his face and he kissed it reverently reaching around to unsnap and pull down the garment. She crawled lasciviously up the stairs, mewling and gasping in decadent sounds. Her beautifully sculpted, statuesque legs (so incongruous for such a petite beauty) revealing themselves. She whipped around and kicked him lightly in the chest. But he was on her.

The starved lovers had only made it up halfway before Spike pounced on her dragging his lips and tongue along her back, sticking her hand in her silk thong. Buffy moaned and moaned, her face absolutely livid with desire, eyes closed. And, oh God, that mouth. Clenched and open, clenched and open. Tensed and relaxed. She pounded at the stair, grabbed the rails and held on for dear life.

But it was a bed Spike wanted, yes? So bed they shall have.

Again Buffy bucked him off with a grunt, whipped around and languidly moved backward up the stairs, eyes never leaving his.

Spike stalked her like a panther, panting with urgency, crawling catlike to her retreating form.

She grinned and licked her teeth mouthing _I want you _while beckoning come hither_._

Finally they made it to the top.

Buffy stood waiting for him. Hands on hips. Legs parted.

He crawled up her legs , kneeling in supplication, hands sliding up her taut lean legs.. His mouth replaced his hands kissing gently, then licking, then feasting on her legs and her tangy middle, as he rendered the restricting lace underwear useless with a quick tear. She grabbed his hair and yanked. Spike yelped and dove in harder. Buffy moans escalated. Her chin thrust upward and then when he hit, he hit it on her bullseye. She bansheed his name in amazed ecstasy.

He picked her up and they slammed into the wall, devouring her lips, pistoning into her with everything he had. She held onto his shoulders and went with him. Rocking and reeling, but still matching him.

Then she pushed off and they hit the opposite wall. Spike grabbed and supported her as she ground himself into her. He gritted his teeth in exertion and gasped himself into a frenzy. Buffy wouldn't let up. She bounced and bounced, her hands flat on the wall on either side of his head for leverage. On the down stroke, Spike with Buffy's name as his Halleluiah. They stared, strained, and sweated each other into bliss.

Desperately, Spike reached out for the nearest doorknob.

He turned and with a deep roar swept them both into the room.

They landed with a thud on the floor, Buffy beneath him.

She was still writhing and clinging to him, biting and licking his nipples but Spike looked around to see the room. Hoping they didn't just end up in the utility closet. And then shivering when he thought of the things that Buffy'd want to do in it.

But he saw the plush bed, the dressing mirror, and the chair. Nodding with satisfaction, he turned his attention to his lady.

As one they swayed and climaxed, both howling and screaming things beyond language, swallowing the rest with deep kisses, tongues and teeth clicking and tangling.

He collapsed on top of her and she cradled him deep to her body, stroking his curls.

"God, I didn't…didn't know I had it in me," Spike managed to gasp through Buffy's delirious laugh as she vigorously hugged him to her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was to put it mildly, very satisfying for both.

They investigated the hotel thoroughly and nakedly. Partaking in the pleasures the hotel had to offer and their own.

Tired of licking the beads of sweat off each other, they realized that they needed to cool down. So Spike went to fill the ice bucket, but Buffy snuck up.

She attacked him while the bucket was still being filled.

Telling himself later, that he did it as experiment. Spike supported Buffy on his shoulders deciding to put the ice to use, ran the cube from her breasts to the sopping heat of her center.

The cube liquefied before it even reached her sweet curls.

Taking more cubes, he ran them over her legs and nether lips. Buffy grabbed the top of the machine and bucked her way to paradise. Words of love and adoration pouring out in voluminous grunts.

The machine groaned, rattled, and slammed in desperate protest. Expending more cubes than the bucket could ever hope to carry.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After more bouts of creative lovemaking, they made their way to the kitchen for a snack.

Not seeing the need for clothes they sat naked enjoying some ice cream and cake left in the fridge. They hoped the preservatives still kept the food fresh.

This seemed especially true for the milk.

At first, as it usually was with the two, things were fairly romantic and chaste. They ate in comfortable silence, every so often feeding the other with their spoons.

Then Spike said a comment about how glad he was to be sitting at a table with her again. Buffy reached her hand across to grab his with a warm smile.

But then she began fondling it in that way that drove Spike crazy.

He seemed to eat the next bit of cake with excruciating slowness, taking his time licking the frosting off meticulously.

Buffy took her glass of milk, and gazed at Spike overtop the rim, licking at the milk like a cat, then impulsively she drank the whole glass down, milk leaking onto her neck and chest, white liquid falls running down her breasts. She licked her mouth exaggeratedly, taking care of most of the milk around her mouth.

What to do about the rest of her…

Spike shrugged. Mother always said not to let milk go to waste.

Taking her down on the table, they finished the rest of the food eating it off of each other's bodies, taking care of the rest in the shower.

By the time they left to shower, the ice cream in the carton was a melted, soppy mess.

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Excluding the stand-up sex they had in the shower and the cunnilingus Spike performed on Buffy whilst she sat in a chair as her bleached prince serviced his princess with loving strokes, and also returning the favor by going down on him with her own, they did make it to the bed like Spike wanted.

And somehow, amidst the torn sheets, blankets in disarray, and the bent frame that finally became too much for the both of them that they slept on the floor, Buffy lay on her side dozing away with a smile while Spike sidled up behind her, kissing her shoulder and neck. He spooned with her, cradling her in his arms, and fell into a satisfied sleep.

Buffy's smile grew.


	7. New Beginnings

Morning broke. The rain gave way to the sun. And its rays warmed Spike's naked back.

He couldn't escape his old habits, though. The ones that weren't so pleasant.

And naturally he spasmed when he felt the heat.

He felt kind of silly about it afterward.

After a brief self-deprecating chuckle, he turned to the sleeping blonde form beside him. His beautiful Buffy lay curled and naked beneath the sheet, looking peacefully contented.

He brushed her hair back gently and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'm…I'm gonna go enjoy the sun, love. You're welcome to join me," he winced at the sound of his voice breaking.

He climbed out, took one of the blankets, and wrapped it around himself. Then went to the roof to soak up the sun.

But he hesitated outside the exit door.

Psyching himself up and struggling to at least appear not to look like a Nancy Boy, he opened the door and stepped outside.

He closed his eyes and the senses wash over him.

The birds singing, workday traffic honking in gridlock, (sigh) the smog.

But all of it drowned out by that sun, the warm sun he bathed in. Silent streams ran down his face. He didn't care. He just wanted this feeling to never end.

He heard the door behind him open and close and a pair of arms wrap around him, massaging his chest. Her lips in gentle pecks across his back.

"Good morning," she said softly.

"Buffy…I, I didn't realize how much I missed…I don't know if I could ever live up to…"

"Shhhh," she soothed. "You were worthy. You are. He knew that."

"It's so beautiful. The daylight."

She rested her head against his back and rocked him gently. "You are worthy, Spike. You've just got to let yourself believe it. Let it begin with me."

He grinned at that. "Quite a sight to wake up to."

Buffy laughed gently and fondled the back of his hair. "I'm glad I could wake with you to see this, Spike." She separated herself briefly. "Actually, considering our marathon session, it's a miracle we woke up at all."

He turned around to take her in his arms. "And how was the marathon? Well run?" he husked.

Buffy smiled uneasily and wandered off. "Yeah," she said trying to hide her uneasiness. "Surprisingly…yeah.

Spike suddenly felt his stomach begin to undulate and the bile churn. He couldn't even force the words form his throat. Didn't even want to.

"What…what do you mean?" he whispered.

"I mean we picked up where we left off and it's like we haven't missed a beat."

"I don't under---"

"Spike, you turn human and it's like we haven't lost anything. The same passion. Same…everything. It's all still here," she exclaimed with an accusatory finger. "You're a human being now. You were nearsighted and you fretted about a bloody nose and then last night was…So how do you explain that?"

Spike turned away form her addressing he blue L.A. skyline.

"When I was with you last night," he said haltingly. "I felt this strength course through me, like I felt when I was turned. Like my body recovered old strengths and powers I thought I'd lost. I got this….thing where I never lost my capacity for love, even without a soul. And now when I was with you last night…" He fixed his gaze unbroken on Buffy. "The way I feel about you…I feel so strongly for you, it's like the desire brought them all back. Like I never lost it.

"So what now, Buffy?"

Buffy sighed. "Well,…I think that's up to you."

Spike didn't expect that. "What do you mean?"

"If I'm going to have you as a….partner, I need to know you won't falter. I know you won't. But it's up to you," she said meeting his eyes. "You were right. I can't escape who I am. I'm still a Slayer."

Spike met her eyes, staring intently.

"I just got a call from Willow. She says hi by the way…after I told her and she got through the shock-induced hyperventilating," she added sheepishly.

"Anyway," Buffy continued. " She found me courtesy of her location spell and some vague mumbling from the coven. The main Slayer in Tokyo is ill-equipped to handle some vengeance spirits haunting an ancient family home. Whoever gets possessed feels an uncontrollable homicidal rage. That's where I'm heading."

"Doesn't sound like much, "Spike offered.

"Up to this point it's just been Stake N' Slay. Never had to do the exorcism thing. I've got the experience."

"And…why are you telling me this?" Spike cautiously asked.

"I might need help. And I want yours."

Spike shook his head and gave an awkward laugh. "I'm gonna be no good to you as a human, Buffy."

"You are so full of shit!" Buffy angrily raged. "You said it yourself. You can…tap into the old vampire powers when you need to. I don't know how, Spike. And frankly I don't care. I'm long past trying to understand how you can be capable of so much other vamps can't. And, honestly, I don't want to know. It's enough for me to accept it."

"So, what?" Spike threw back agitated. "I gotta be in a constant state of horniness to be of any use to you?" He stopped to think about it "Kind of already am…"

"No, no," Buffy mused. "I think it's simpler than that. Your desire and passion is so encompassing that…maybe that's enough. You're passionate about being a warrior and fighting at my side. And maybe when we're confronted by whatever we find in Japan…or before, we'll see it put into action."

"But you don't know for sure." Buffy flinched as Spike finished her thought.

"No," she agreed. "But I'm willing to take the risk. I've played it safe, too safe for so damn long. And you were the price I paid. I'm not making that mistake again.

"I think.. I know it's a new beginning for both of us. But I wanna give it a shot, a decent shot this time. Let me be new to you. Please. I can't say that…I'll always be fair, but…I'm gonna give it my best. If you'll let me."

"For you, I'll do my best," he said softly.

"No, Spike," she whispered. "Do it for you." She cupped his face tenderly. "For us."

Spike took his sweet time answering. "Well, for right now," he grinned faintly, "let's stick to the trip. What did you say you wanted from me?"

Buffy smirked with affectionate exasperation and gently slapped his face. "Your help."

"Figure that's a good place to start," he nodded. "Just got to help me pick out some eyeglasses when we get there. And we gotta hit a karaoke bar."

"Karaoke?" She ventured as Spike followed her back through the hotel doors.

"Need to eat some sushi and drink some sake, too,"

"Spike…"

"Didn't let me finish," he interrupted. They moved to collect some spare clothes the Fang Gang had left. Buffy gathered Angel's leather in her arms and wrapped Spike's duster around her shoulders.

They moved to the front door. Spike opened it to let her through, but she reached out to take his, giving him a warm loving smile.

"Off each others' bodies."

Buffy turned red.

"Oh, well that's different." Spike closed and locked the door.

Hand in hand, the two reunited lovers exited the Hyperion and faced the new dawn that promised a new life filled with new adventures.

DONE


End file.
